


The First Day (of the Cruelest Month)

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John returns home to the flat and is completely unprepared for what awaits him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Day (of the Cruelest Month)

"Sherlock? You in?" John called as he entered the flat, shucking his black hunting jacket and throwing it carelessly across the back of a kitchen chair.

"Indeed I am in, John. As you will soon deduce when you see me."

John stepped into the sitting room and stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open.

Sherlock was sitting in the leather de Corbusier chair, his fingers steepled, and wearing nothing but a curious expression.

"In fact, John, what I am IN is ... In the mood."

John licked his lips. "Sherlock, what are you....are you on drugs? You're my friend, for God's sake, ...and... I do actually have a girlfriend, remember? She's due here in forty minutes!

Sherlock crinkled his brow. "Not nearly enough time for what I have in mind. Well, then. She'll simply have to join us."

"WHAT?!" John exclaimed.

"Surely you know she's indulged in threesomes before. I deduced that within the first two minutes of meeting her. She finds me quite attractive, though not her usual type -compact and rugged-, and she will be more than happy to assist us."

"You're completely mad..." John murmured, unable to take his eyes off of Sherlock's lovely form. "Jesus, what am I saying? Of course you are..." His hand moved up to his mouth, and he pinched his lower lip absently.

Sherlock stood and strode, well stalked would be the more precise word, over to John. John fought to hold his ground, even though he desperately wanted to back away.

"Remove your clothing, John. I'd prefer to begin before your ladyfriend arrives."

"Sherlock..."

A wicked smile played against Sherlock's lips."I take it you would prefer me to undress you? I am amenable to that as well." His hands flew down the front of John's shirt, nimble fingers undoing nearly all the buttons before John was able to reach out and capture Sherlock's slender wrists.

"S-stop, Sherlock...you can't...you shouldn't be..."

Sherlock leaned in and caught John's mouth in a soft kiss.

Two raps on the front door, and then a familiar male voice echoed in the entryway. "Sherlock? I got the text, now what is this bloody emergency of yours-- Oh. Right."

Detective Inspector Lestrade surveyed the scene and raised one eyebrow.

John dropped Sherlock's wrists. "Jesus, Greg, this isn't .... It's not at all what it looks like. I think he's on something..."

"Is that true, Sherlock? Are you on something right now?" Lestrade folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin, daring Sherlock to confess the truth.

"I am most certainly on something, Detective Inspector. I am on fire for my flatmate. Care to join us?"

Lestrade's eyes flicked from Sherlock to John, then back again. "Right. Well. I don't see why not." He pulled one arm out of the sleeve of his dark suit jacket, smiling appreciatively at John.

"WHAT?!" John shouted. "No way, no bloody way! What the HELL are you two --"

"Lestrade, you do have at least one set of handcuffs with you, I assume?" Sherlock's head tilted slightly in Lestrade's direction, but he kept his gaze trained on John's.

"Somewhere here, yeah..." Lestrade patted his pockets.

John backed away, nearly tripping over the hearth and the fireplace tools, pushing himself up against the wall, narrowly avoiding the mirror above.

"Look, I don't know what's happening, and I don't want to hurt you, but so help me if either of you try to lay a hand on me, I WILL dislocate your shoulders and break your wrists." John's chest was heaving with anger and anxiety and...something he was determined not to name.

Sherlock stepped closer, but did not attempt to make physical contact.

"I'm serious, Sherlock!" John set his teeth and squared his shoulders.

"John..," Sherlock began.

"Don't!" John nearly growled.

"John, think for a moment. What is today's date?"

John swallowed, trying to process the question. "The first?"

"Yes, but the first of what, John?"

"The first of many, let's hope," Lestrade chuckled, unbuttoning his cuffs.

"Hush, Lestrade. The first of what month, John?"

John thought for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. "The first of April....oh, Christ...oh, fuck, I hate you. I fucking hate you both, you fucking bastards."

Sherlock turned and picked up the blue satin dressing gown from where he'd left it behind his chair. He pulled it on and cinched the belt tightly around his waist.

Lestrade dissolved into a fit of laughter, and Sherlock allowed himself a very satisfied grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy April Fools Day!


End file.
